


Direct hit.

by Fringejacket (Briska)



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briska/pseuds/Fringejacket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Numbers raised the shotgun once more, his eyebrows drew together into a deep frown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Direct hit.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, here’s a little drabble about how I love the idea of Numbers being a "tsundere"..
> 
> First try. *ducks*

Numbers raised the shotgun once more, his eyebrows drew together into a deep frown.

Today had not been his day, he let a guy run after long exhausting chase along an old railroad through an industrial site. Wrench had been ducking from gunfire and Numbers could’ve easily nailed the fleeing bastard long-distance. He had taken the shot but missed miserably.

This current situation, a busy shooting range with his partner breathing down his neck awaiting his turn wasn’t helping his frustration. The shotgun’s muzzle pointed straight at the bulls-eye 30 yards away but kept dancing around it because of his unsteady grip. Nerves. He sighed and adjusted his stance and squinted his eyes for better aim. As he fired, the shotgun cocked back full force on his already strained shoulder making him winch. Snarling, he missed the target again and again.

Numbers’ jaw tightened, he was about take a break as he felt his partner move in behind him. To his surprise, the other man took a hold of the shotgun, steadying it with strong arms and aimed it. Larger hands covering Numbers’ as Wrenches fingers guided Numbers to the trigger, squeezing in a gentle manner. The shotgun fired, this time more precise, obliterating the target in an instant. Numbers smiled in triumph, until he realized Wrench was still, well, holding him. Numbers shrugged him off, pulling away in embarrassment which, he hoped to have managed to cover up with anger.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?", he blurted out as he turned to the deaf man adding with aggressive, choppy signing; l know how to fire a fucking gun!

Wrench just grinned and let out a laugh, holding both his hands up in mock defense. He knew his friend and partner too well to argue.


End file.
